


The Most Feared Future

by chase3136



Series: YuuRam Future [2]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!, Kyou Kara Maou! (anime), Kyou Kara Maou! R (OAV)
Genre: Ex-boyfriend returns, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Post-Canon, Wolfram's NOT an absolute virgin just in the one way it counts ;P, fight for love, warning: some emotional manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase3136/pseuds/chase3136
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yūri's worst fear arrives at Blood Pledge Palace…set after Season 3 (anime)<br/>& the 1st ALTERNATE Sequel of T H E  D R Y  W I N D  F U T U R E...</p><p>…Can Yūri overcome his fear and change his future?...Or will he give into f e a r?...</p><p>...featuring the Love Triangle from hell vs. YuuRam…</p><p>Murata lowered his head enough so that the light no longer hid his eyes, Yūri regrettably saw not a hint of humor in those black depths.</p><p>“Which would you rather face, the truth of your heart… or your worst fear?” his friend uttered softly and to Yūri it sounded like a challenge.</p><p>Yūri felt himself grow tense and his heart began to pound loudly in his ears. He wet his dry lips with his barely moist tongue as his eyes flickered from Murata’s still form to the filled bathtub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also find me on [FanFiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3926020/chase3136),  
> [Tumblr](http://wulfravenlilly.tumblr.com/), and [DeviantART](http://chase316392.deviantart.com/)  
> -  
> Flashbacks are in italics
> 
> 'It is never safe to look into the future with eyes of fear.' ~E. H. Harriman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: the translation of the title is probably, most definitely wrong, I don't read/write Japanese but I did my best to find a translation that wasn't too long & looked like it might be right. If anyone does know the correct translation & kanji then I could correct it?
> 
> This story starts off a little slow as Yūri reflects on some events from season 3 as well as what happed in the prequel: The Dry Wind Future but it picks up speed once he returns to Shin Mazoku and the OC is formally introduced.

** **

**Y** ūri chewed on the end of his ballpoint pen as he stared at the clock on the wall behind his history teacher, Professor Weinberg’s lecturing posture whilst Yūri pondered over how much more interesting Shin Makoku’s history sounded and found himself missing Günter’s overenthusiastic nattering despite himself, for at least that made a soothing background noise to his inner musings.

He sighed deeply, thinking back over his love of historical dramas and how that had never extended to his history classes, much to Shōri's continued displeasure.

Thinking about Shin Makoku led to thinking about his friends and family there. Yes, he had family there, which is something he had not thought he would have away from his parents for a very long time, and yet he had Greta. S cute little daughter already a Princess of her own country before he even adopted her and he was proud in the knowledge that she would make a good Queen once she turned sixteen.

And then, there was Wolfram. No matter how many times Yūri had hinted that he was less than happy with their engagement, Wolfram had clung to him even more determinedly than before.

But lately, Yūri found that he did not mind so much and supposed that he was used to it by then, but he knew deep down that he had come close to accepting his feelings for his fiancé, it had been so gradual that he had barely noticed, although, if he had to put a date on his revelation, he would have to say a few months back (in Shin Mazoku), with that whole Dry Wind incident.

There was no wake-up call that was more effective than seeing the beautiful boy that is completely and irrevocably for you suddenly with some strange blue-haired man. And by “with” he meant _with_. It had been like a bucket of ice cold water thrown on him whilst still half-asleep, and he had not been able to deny his attraction to Wolfram since.

Yūri had found himself contemplating Wolfram’s peculiar behavior more and more lately. Since almost a year ago in Shin Makoku when Wolfram had been on the brink of death and then Yūri had thought that he would never be able to return to his Kingdom and friends again, he had come to except Wolfram and even the engagement to an extent, going so far as to openly call Conrad his big bother.

Yūri had almost lost Wolfram three times in such quick succession that it had shaken him to the core. He had felt uneasy when he had eventually realized that Wolfram had not been sleeping in his room for quite a while, it made him recognize that the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something had been the absence of Wolfram’s constant and warm presence. It had confused him, and still did but he had had no time to scrutinize it.

He had been terrified and determined to save Wolfram when his heart had been taken by Soushu (as Shinou) and then, he had not even known that Wolfram was alright until he had defeated Soushu by finding himself, ironically, but when he finally had been within reaching distance of Wolfram, just seconds of seeing him alive and strong again, he was told by Murata that he would never be able to return once he got back to Earth.

Stepping through that portal when Wolfram called out his name, his voice hoarse with repressed agony and desperation, even though, he had been the first to tell Yūri to go home, was the hardest thing that he had ever done.

And he had realized at some point afterwards during his stay on earth that Wolfram was the only person in his life that he could not bring himself to say goodbye to. He remembers feeling a great sense of loss and sadness as he wondered through his day to day life on Earth, thinking that he would never see Greta or Wolfram or Conrad and the others again, and the feeling of elation and utter relief he felt on his journey back was almost overwhelming. To see Wolfram standing over him, tears and anger barely suppressed at the sight of him… the emotions that had coursed through him had been frightening.

But even that reprieve had been short lived. Wolfram had avoided and been short with him after what was, for them, a warm and ordinary greeting. Wolfram had disappeared and then came back exhausted and hurt and no one would tell Yūri what was wrong.

And then, he was gone again, the engagement had been called off, which had confused Yūri terribly after all the times he had hinted heavily that he had not wanted the engagement and complained that Wolfram was a hindrance to him, but when it was actually over and Wolfram was safe but far away, he had felt that overwhelming sense of loss once again.

Cecilie had said something, he remembered that it had made his chest ache curiously, something about Wolfram being kept away from the one he loved most and Yūri had wondered at the time whether that was true; he had never considered that Wolfram might actually, truly be in love with him before, and then Greta had cried, hardening Yūri’s resolve to bring Wolfram back.

He had felt betrayed and angered when Wolfram had challenged him, to the point where he actually wanted to cause him serious pain; he had been unprepared not having thought that Wolfram had wanted to oppose him and, of course, he had been right. Wolfram had staged the whole thing so that Yūri could prove that he was worthy of the throne and, at the same time, get rid of the opposition. Yūri had rebounded his attack on the blond onto himself, unable to hurt Wolfram after all.

That was so like Wolfram, Yūri realized. He thought like a soldier and saw life as a battlefield. He could never hold back, not with his words or actions and he was quite sure that he had no handle on his emotions whatsoever, he had always been upfront and fiercely honest, and Yūri had come to admire him for it. Of course, Yūri was just as honest and emotional, although, he lacked the sharp wit and biting intelligence that came so naturally to Wolfram, not to mention the fierceness.

Once Wolfram was back in Blood Pledge Castle, he remained distant but respectfully so and Yūri was still missing the blond Mazoku’s fiery persistence. Wanting to put things right between them, Yūri had tried his damnedest to put what he was feeling into words.

And that was how he became re-engaged.

He had not even known that Wolfram could take it back so easily. Of course, that was not how he had meant it to go but somehow it was alright because everything was back to normal again. Wolfram was once again irrevocably his, and Yūri was surprisingly okay with that.

Yūri had noticed that Wolfram had reframed from his jealous outbursts more and more often after that, although, Yūri admitted to himself (but nobody else) that Wolfram might have had a reason to have one of his infamous fits of violence over his time spent with Sara. But Wolfram had wholly believed in him (more or less).

Realizing this, Yūri had cautiously recounted over his fumbling speech to the blond after his return from Wolfram's Uncle’s castle over and over in his mind, only to conclude that he had somehow conveyed an assurance of Wolfram’s position in his life by his side and Wolfram had taken it completely to heart.

Yūri did not know how he felt about that, he had noticed that he had come to rely on Wolfram’s constant companionship over their past two years together and that he even feels assured by his warmth beside him during the night, which was a sobering notion.

The more he thought about it, the more afraid he was that he was getting too comfortable around Wolfram. They had adopted a daughter together, they were (still!) engaged and Yūri was pretty certain that everyone in the Kingdom actually expected them to be married at some point in the future. And the insufferable blond had won over his family without any trouble whatsoever; he had completely immersed himself into Yūri’s life and Yūri had not even noticed until it was too late, which he was quite confident should be cause for alarm.

He was not gay.

At least… that is what he had been certain of before Wolfram had charged into his life. And what were his senses playing at when he had been hiding in that coffin with Sara? He could admit to himself that he had noticed that Wolfram was beautiful, how could he not? There was no question of Wolfram’s attraction but Yūri had resolutely ignored his growing affection towards the boisterous blond; he was just a good friend.

A _very_ good friend.

In fact in many ways Wolfram was more his _best_ friend than Murata, they had certainly been through more together and come through even stronger than before. However, his reaction to Sara in such close proximity had thrown him through a loop.

Yūri admitted that Wolfram and Sara both had a certain femininity about them that enhanced their already stunning beauty, Sara more so than Wolfram, (perhaps it was something about blond hair?), but that was no excuse.

And Wolfram would surely kill him if he ever found out that Yuri thought of him as anything less than absolutely masculine, or that Yūri had compared him to the human King, even if Wolfram had been the most superior in his mind, although, Yūri would never admit to it out loud. It was just that Wolfram was so passionate about everything that the intensity of the blond unsettled Yūri more than he felt he could deal with.

As if in response to his thoughts, he could clearly see Wolfram’s disgruntled expression in his mind’s eye as he uttered “wimp” in disgust.

“Don’t call me a wimp!” Yūri muttered angrily, immediately defensive (as usual), and was startled when the girl sitting at the next desk on his right looked at him curiously.

Yūri blushed scarlet, his sweaty palm smoothing back his hair as he chucked nervously at the pretty brunette’s attention. The girl – Yūri remembered that her name was Suki – frowned with disinterest as she refocused her attention on Professor Weinberg who continued his lengthy monologue, oblivious to everything beyond his lecture (much like Günter if Yuri thought about it, which he didn’t).

Yūri sighed in relief, even though, he was a little disappointed that he had not held Suki’s awareness longer, but then, she did not know that he was King of a Demon Kingdom in another world. Oh well, she wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Still, it would have been a stroke to his ego if she had, however, he felt himself deflate at the insight that he was more accustomed to interacting with men than pretty girls… although, Wolfram was annoyingly pretty… but that was beside the point.

The bell finally rang out and Yūri was drawn back to Earth (figuratively speaking) and his history lesson, which was apparently over from the sight of his classmates making haste for the door and their freedom. He felt a bit guilty that he had not paid nearly enough attention to the lecture and knew that his grades would suffer for it, but he was just as quick to leave the classroom as his fellow students, never one to be held captive by academic means for very long (much to Günter’s displeasure).

As it was the end of classes for another day, Yūri eagerly stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, which had dulled since autumn was well on the way, and swept his black gaze over the flood of people leaving the large pale building. It took him a while but he eventually caught sight of Murata, who was waiting patiently by the tall iron gates at the front of the school grounds, his book bag slung casually over one shoulder.

“Hey! Shibuya!” Yūri could hear him shout over the top of the crowd, waving his free arm vigorously and Yūri quickened his pace to reach his friend. “How was History?” Murata asked at once when Yūri reached his side and they turned as one towards Yūri’s house as was their routine. “Learn anything interesting?”

Yūri shook his head sheepishly, his guilt rushing back. “I kinda zone out for a bit. I know there was something to do with a War though, but I’m not sure which one. There are too many Wars anyway, they should teach us how to stop them rather than give us ideas of how to start one.” Yūri grumbled.

Murata gave a bark of laughter. “Something a King might use in times of conflict, you mean?” he asked with a knowing smile. “Or is it that you’re just trying to justify your ignorance during class, Shibuya?”

Yūri could not hold back his ashamed blush no matter how hard he tried. “The first one.” he answered pitifully.

“Aah…ha,” Murata agreed slowly, sounding less than sincere with a smirk firmly plastered on his face. “So what was on your mind that was more important than your History grade?”

Yūri hesitated a moment before speaking. “I was thinking about Shin Makoku and how everyone might be, I did leave kind of suddenly… again.” He was not lying that _had_ been one of his concerns he mentally assured his overly zealous conscience.

“Hmm, I’m sure everyone understands. Although, Lord von Bielefeld might give you a hard time once you get back.” Yūri could not help but smile at that. Wolfram had been chasing him down with the word “cheater!” curving his full lips at the time he had departed ‘a hard time’ was an understatement. He was going to get hell, it was a guarantee. “So, you intend to marry him, then?”

Yūri’s eyes snapped to Murata’s as cold shock filled him. Murata was looking at him with amusement. With his heart lodged in his throat he managed to squeak out.

“What?!”

“Oh, come on.” his friend laughed lightly, clearly enjoying Yūri’s horror-stricken expression. “He’s been your fiancé for almost three years in Shin Makoku, as I understand it you proposed as soon as you met and you’ve been nearly inseparable since. Are you telling me that you have no interested in him in a romantic sense, at all?” he finished incredulously.

Yūri panicked. “I didn’t know that slapping someone on their left cheek was a proposal, if I had I would have punched him! …Or maybe slapped him on his right cheek, instead. And he’s the one that follows me around everywhere not the other way around! Of course, I don’t intend to actually marry him; he’s a guy!”

“Okay, okay.” Murata waved his hand at him as if to bat away a bothersome fly. That snapped Yūri out of his panic long enough to frown in annoyance. “You take this whole same-gender-thing too seriously. Lord von Bielefeld is beautiful, high-maintenance, not to mention very hard to please, the fact that you gained his attention at all is extremely fortunate on your part. If you haven’t noticed, Shibuya, you are not all that eye-catching.”

“What’s any of that got to do with anything?” Yūri grumbled, not liking Murata’s matter-of-fact tone. As if he didn’t know what Wolfram was like!

“Now, Shibuya, no need to get touché.” he said with obvious amusement. “All I’m saying is that you take von Bielefeld for granted. A lot of mazoku _men_ want what you have gained so easily and without trying at all. So, before you throw that away, all I’m saying is; give it an honest chance.”

“What do you mean?” Yūri asked warily, his voice shaking ever so slightly. That had been a little too close to the mark. The fact that Murata had pacifically stressed the imposing word ‘men’ had Yūri wondering whether the absence of the included ‘women’ that he knew gushed over Wolfram on a regular basis was deliberate.

Could Murata know what Yūri had seen in the Dry Wind machine? Could he know Yūri’s worst fear? But there was no way, Yūri had been just as stubborn as Wolfram on keeping that piece of information strictly to himself, which had resulted in the biggest argument between him and Wolfram ever since their duel when they first met, and ended with Wolfram not sleeping in his room for three nights before he was apparently, silently forgiven. Neither had brought up the subject since and Yūri would really like to keep it that way.

Murata gave him a serious look. “I mean that it might be nigh-impossible to dissuade him but if you succeed in calling off the engagement, for good, no matter what his feelings, he won’t stay single for long, not after he has shown such an eagerness to settle down. And then, it would be too late for you to change your mind because I have no doubt that he is not the type to forgive and forget so easily.”

Yūri flinched. Why couldn’t Murata just leave it alone? He was all too aware of Wolfram’s appeal and that was the problem. He knew in his head that a guy attracted to another guy was wrong, but his heart… his heart had let Wolfram in with little resistance and it seemed that there was not enough logic in the world to push the beautiful boy back out. And now, he was torn between not wanting to want his friend and not wanting anyone else to want him either.

“Shibuya?” Murata’s voice had a note of curiosity to it and it was with great reluctance that Yūri met his eyes. As predicted Murata’s eyes alighted with knowledge, almost instantaneously making Yūri scowl a scowl that could rival Gwendal’s.

“Don’t say anything.” Yūri snapped before his friend could do just that. “I know what you’re going to say and you can save it.” Murata raised his eyebrows at his offensiveness and Yūri calmed himself, sighing heavily. “Look, I’m too confused to talk about it right now. I need some time to figure out what I want. I’m not even sure how I really feel about him, yet.”

Murata gave him a long, searching look before he shrugged just as they turned the corner into Yūri’s home street; suddenly seeming disinterested in the conversation, which Yūri knew was for his benefit, and he almost felt grateful. “Of course, it’s your decision to make. It always has been. The fact that you’ve finally acknowledged that there is something more to your relationship with Lord von Bielefeld is a gallant start. And perhaps, just in time too.”

“What do you mean by that?” Yūri asked worriedly. Murata said nothing. Yūri was a little miffed that his friend had chosen _now_ to get cryptic, and when he said as much Murata rubbed at the nape of his neck and laughed unhelpfully, leaving Yūri to stew over his words as he opened the front door of his home for them both.

“Mom, I’m back!” he called out distractedly as he and Murata took off their shoes.

“Its mama, Yū-chan!” was the predictable reply from the kitchen and Yūri sighed in exasperation. Would she ever give that a rest?

“I’m here too, mama-san!” Murata shouted in greeting as he walked casually past Yūri, _like he lives here_ , Yūri thought with mild annoyance, following him into the kitchen where Miko already had a pot bubbling on the stove. Curry, no doubt.

“Ken-chan!” Miko cried as she threw her arms around Yūri’s friend, and Yūri unsuccessfully tried not to roll his eyes at the affectionate display. “You’re staying for dinner, right, Ken-chan?” she queried with anticipation, pulling back to hold him at arms-length.

“Of course, mama-san. I wouldn’t miss a chance to taste your cooking.”

“Oooh!” Miko squeezed Murata in a tight hug as he laughed embarrassedly over her shoulder before she let him go in favor of stirring the contents of the pot. “You boys wash up! Dinner will be ready soon.” she told them without further ado.

“Right!” Murata agreed eagerly. “Come on, Shibuya!” he said in a business-like tone, grabbing Yūri by the wrist as he passed him. Yūri let out a startled yelp as he was suddenly dragged through the dining room, down the hall and up the stairs, sidelong.

Murata didn’t let go until they reached the top landing, in which he headed straight for the bathroom with Yūri trailing warily behind whilst rubbing at the red print around his wrist. Sometimes his mother and Murata’s enthusiasm scared him just a little, and he was sure he heard a suspiciously familiar voice mutter “wimp!” somewhere in his subconscious. Yūri sighed internally, knowing he was lost.

When Yūri went into the bathroom behind Murata, he saw him stand beside the bathtub which he realized with apprehension was full to the brim with cooling water, and Murata was looking at him expectantly.

“Oh no.” Yūri said at once, shaking his head in the negative. “I’m not ready yet!” he exclaimed when Murata’s expression did not change.

“It’s been three weeks, Shibuya.” Murata remanded him as if he had forgotten. “Three months have passed in Shin Makoku. Are you really going to keep Lord von Bielefeld waiting?”

Yūri glared at him. “I said I’m not ready. I just got back after thinking that I’d never visit Earth again. And don’t bring Wolfram into this.”

“Well, it’s him that you’re trying to avoid, isn’t it?” Murata questioned in that matter-of-fact tone that Yūri found so grating. “What are you so afraid of, Shibuya?”

“I’m not afraid.” Yūri snapped back immediately but then realized that was not quite true, however, what he was afraid of was not Wolfram either.

Murata sighed as if carrying a huge burden. Yūri continued to glare. “You’re going to have to deal with your feelings sometime, Shibuya. After all the evils you have faced, after all the lives you have saved. Why are you so afraid to give in to your own heart?” Yūri took a step back, feeling like he had just been slapped. Ironic really, considering that was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Murata’s glasses gleamed with the pale yellow light of the setting sun illuminating the bathroom, making it impossible to read his expression. “Can you honestly say after everything you have been through with Lord von Bielefeld you feel nothing but friendship towards him?” he paused to allow Yūri his chance to do just that but no such response came.

They both knew Yūri honestly couldn’t and Murata had just confirmed it. “What are you so afraid of, Shibuya?” Murata queried once again but Yūri’s strained silence stretched on, not even trying to deny it this time. “You’ve said in defense your constant companionship was all on his part, but you had forgotten the times when you have chased him across the country. And there were times when Lord von Bielefeld didn’t seek your companionship and it was you who sought him out. And then, there are the times when the only reason that you or your majutsu got involved was because he was hurt or in danger.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Yūri finally interrupted. He knew it all had thought about it. Sometimes, it was all he could think about when he was on Earth, lying in his cool and lonely bed, staring blindly up at his strangely clinical white ceiling. There was no need to tell him any of this.

“Because you can’t seem to accept that what you feel is natural just because you and your fiancé are both male, which is ridiculous since no one in your life is opposed to it other than yourself. I told you earlier that perhaps you had realized your feelings just in time.” Murata reminded him in a tone which told Yūri what he was saying was of the utmost importance. The assertion sent a chill down Yūri’s spine. “And for your sake, Shibuya, I really do hope so.”

“What’s happening in Shin Mazoku?” Yūri thought out loud, his voice derived of emotion; he did not want to believe what was being said. The whole ordeal had come about too quickly for him to fully grasp and he wanted it all to be a very longwinded, very bad joke.

But when Murata lowered his head enough so that the light no longer hid his eyes, Yūri regrettably saw not a hint of humor in those black depths.

“Which would you rather face, the truth of your heart… or your worst fear?” his friend uttered softly and to Yūri it sounded like a challenge.

Yūri felt himself grow tense and his heart began to pound loudly in his ears. He wet his dry lips with his barely moist tongue as his eyes flickered from Murata’s still form to the filled bathtub.

He was being goaded, he was sure of it and yet he still dived into the rapidly swirling water, racing towards the portal at the bottom knowing that Murata was close behind him. He knew it and yet he still took the challenge even though he was entirely sure that he was still not ready.

He gasped in a lungful of the fresh earthy air of Shin Makoku when he resurfaced on the other side, Murata appearing just seconds after him, spluttering. He was almost afraid to look around but instantly realized that it was well into the night.

He had delivered them right into the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard in Shinou’s Temple. However, instead of the usual welcome party there were only two figures standing in the near darkness with a lit touch between them. Yūri beamed up at Conrad and Jozak as he felt relief wash over him at not having to deal with Wolfram so soon after arriving so suddenly.

“You’re late, your Majesty, your Holiness.” Conrad commented as he handed over fresh towels to Yūri and Murata each once they had climbed out of the fountain.

“Conrad.” Yūri almost whined, “Stop doing that, you’re the one who named me remember? Call me Yūri … and that’s an order.” He finished firmly as the thought abruptly occurred to him. He was in no mood for routine banter, and he did not know why he had never thought to do that before.

Conrad blinked at him owlishly in the silence which followed, clearly shocked speechless. Jozak laughed heartily. “Now you’ve done it, young Master! The Captain knows that he can’t go against orders. Nicely done by the way.” he added with a cheeky wink, at which point Conrad came out of his stupor enough to chuckle softly at his friend’s behavior.

Yūri felt his cheeks heat slightly, wondering if perhaps he had been too harsh in his greeting but the gentle smile that Conrad sent him, banished any worry that he had.

Everything was as it should be.

Murata had only stuck around long enough to bid them all goodnight with an unreadable glance sent in Yūri’s direction, before heading into the Temple, no doubt towards his personal rooms. Yūri watched him go, feeling as if his stomach was twisted in knots; his friend’s softly spoken words resounding in his mind.

_“Which would you rather face, the truth of your heart…, or your worst fear?”_

Yūri contemplated that on the carriage ride to Blood Pledge Castle, the comfortable silence between his companions and the peaceful landscape with only the carriages progress forwards and the soft falls of the horses’ hooves rippling in the silence, offering the perfect atmosphere for him to reassess his current situation.

Was what he had seen in the Dry Wind machine really his worst fear? He was not sure. Certainly there were worse things? Of course there were! However thinking about it, Yūri admitted that this was the area of his life that he felt the most helpless.

He had the power to crush entire armies with one strike, not that he would, of course, but he still possessed the option if there was no other, which comforted him and scared him all at once. However, in matters of the heart, he was at a complete loss. If someone else did manage to steal his devoted fiancé away from him, what would he do?

He knew instinctively that his life without Wolfram would be terribly bleak in contrast to the past three years with the fiery blond within his grasp, if only he would reach out to him. And now that he knew his true feelings (sort of) he was more inclined to close the distance he had always made a point to keep between them, before now.

So, then why did he feel a terrible sense of foreboding? He felt chilled to the bone, even though the night breeze was comfortably warm against his skin. It was clear to him that he had not wanted to hear Murata’s assertion, which not only did not help him resolve any of his confusion but also added to the growing list of questions that was plaguing his mind.

What did it matter to him who Wolfram was with… as long as he was happy?

Why did the thought of Wolfram being happy with someone else hurt so much?

When had his feelings changed so drastically?

He was even further away from solving his emotional dilemma when the carriage pulled up in front of the grand entrance to the castle. Jozak and Conrad jumped down from the front of his carriage where they had been steering the horses.

Yūri found it strange that Conrad had not sat in the carriage with him now that he thought about it. But he supposed he might have communicated his need to be alone with his thoughts by his unguarded expression. And Conrad, being the attentive man he was, immediately complied with his unspoken wish.

Conrad opened the carriage door for him and Yūri smiled a bit sheepishly. He had not meant for his friend to realize his strange mood, afraid he would get questioned on it but as usual Conrad did not pry. He stepped aside for Yūri to exit the carriage and then followed a step behind him into the castle. Not a word was needed to be spoken between them.

Yūri valued that quality in Conrad even more than his older brother-like protectiveness. Although, that was nice too and, thankfully, it was much easier to deal with than when it was coming from Shōri. Yūri mentally rolled his eyes when the vivid image of Shōri’s disgruntled face came instantly to mind. _“Call me Big Brother, Y_ _ū_ _-chan!”_

Jozak paused in the huge hall entrance, stopping Yūri and Conrad in their tracks as well. “Well, you made it safely back home, your Majesty!” he announced cheerfully. He bowed deeply, lifting his head to grin up at Yūri. “As you’re in no more need of my talents, I’ll leave you in the Captain’s capable hands.” he winked at Conrad, and Yūri was almost certain that Conrad’s lips twitched upwards in a half-smile.

“Bye.” Jozak waved gaily as he headed back outside of the castle, probably in the direction of the soldiers quarters round back, although, one never new with Jozak. Yūri waved a little distractedly at the Spy’s retreating back, wondering absently just how late into the night it was. Jozak and Conrad must be eager to get their rest if they want to make it to breakfast on time in the morning.

“I’ll walk you to your chambers.” Conrad said and Yūri smiled in appreciation as they turned as one down the nearest corridor.

“Everything’s so quiet here during the night.” Yūri thought out loud, wanting to fill the heavy silence that had fallen with Jozak’s absence. “In Japan even the nights are never this still. There are always cars still driving by or people still up and about for some reason or other. But then, on Earth there are very few places without cities or streets. So, I suppose it’s normal that I’m still not used to this total peace at night after spending fifteen years of my life accustomed to the constant noise back home.”

“Hm, it will seem more natural over time, but I understand how unusual it may seem to you. When I visited Earth for the first time the experience was very overwhelming.” Yūri looked to his friend only to see the familiar calm and unreadable expression on the older man’s face.

Yūri nodded slightly as he turned forwards again. His bedchamber was only two corridors away and a mixture of dread and anticipation was churning his stomach; he knew that Wolfram would be there, waiting for him.

“It must have been harder for you to have gone from the quiet nights to the din of the city.” Yūri said in a lower voice, trying almost desperately to keep Conrad talking to delay the inevitable just a little longer. He really was not ready for this.

“Hum, yes it was quite an experience that I’m sure will never leave me, and for that I am grateful.” Yūri stopped outside his chamber’s double doors that looked more imposing to him now then when he had first visited Blood Pledge Castle. He gulped audibly; peering up at Conrad with what he was sure must have been a beseeching look plastered across his face.

“And why’s that?” Conrad smiled down at him the smile that Yūri was sure could melt even the most unfeeling hearts.

“Because it was the first time that I met your Maj– oh, forgive me – the first time I met you, Yūri.” Yūri grinned remembering his mom’s justification of how he had been named. He was glad that he meant so much to Conrad. “Well then, I wish you a goodnight’s rest, Yūri.”

Yūri’s face immediately fell. “Wait! Um.” he stammered when Conrad looked at him in slight alarm at his outburst. “I, um, what I mean is… that.” Ok, so he really had no idea what he could say to make this situation any better. “That is… well…”

“Is there something the matter, Yūri?” Conrad frowned softly in concern.

“Yes! I mean, no. I don’t know!” he growled in frustration. Why was he even trying to delay this? Wolfram was probably – no – most _definitely_ fast asleep at this point. There was no excuse for his unreasonable behavior. And now, Conrad was watching him intently. Well, crap.

“Do you want to talk about it?” was the carefully voiced question, and Yūri was convinced that he already knew what his dilemma was. Or, at least, that Wolfram had a big part in it. Yūri hung his head in defeat. He’d been caught.

“No.” he replied sulkily. It did not matter that Conrad was his godfather and most cherished friend he just could not talk on this right now, he was too confused for that. And the fact Conrad was Wolfram’s older brother made it a forbidden subject in Yūri’s mind. How could he tell Conrad that he may be on the brink of _wanting_ his little brother? Or rather on the brink of _admitting_ that he _wanted_ his youngest sibling? Nope. Not going to happen.

Conrad stood in front of him in silence and Yūri really wanted to know what he was thinking, or maybe he really didn’t. Anyway, he could not bring himself to look the older man in the eye. Yūri was sure his guilt was written all over his face and he really did not want to admit to anything, so he settled for staring fretfully at Conrad’s clean leather boots instead.

Finally, Conrad shifted into a more relaxed stance than that of a soldier. His voice was low and soothing when he saved Yūri from the ominous silence at long last. “If I am no longer needed then I’d suggest that you get some rest.” Yūri was felt a wash of relief when he cautiously lifted his eyes to met Conrad’s warm brown. There was no hostility there. Thank god. “I want to remind you though, Yūri that I am your friend and you can confide in me whenever you wish.”

Yūri flushed with guilt at Conrad’s soft smile. He gave a low bow and uttered a respectful “Goodnight, Yūri.” before turning on his heel and heading for his own quarters. Yūri did not feel any better once he was out of sight.

Taking a deep breath, Yūri gripped the golden door handle with determination. He was being stupid, really. And before he could convince himself otherwise he opened the door, hurried inside and then shut it tightly behind him, denying him any escape. It took a moment before he realized his eyes were squeezed shut and that was why it was completely dark, rather than it being caused by the drapes being drawn closed or the like, which of course they wouldn’t be. Wolfram liked the soft glow of the moon at night so Yūri’s thick velvet drapes were barely stirred anymore.

With a disgruntled huff, Yūri pried his eyelids apart and peeked into the moonlit room, in that very instant he wished he hadn’t.

It was not that the image was unpleasant. In fact it was the complete opposite. It was beautiful. Wolfram was spread-eagled across the huge bed, his rumpled golden locks streaming over the pillows in pale golden waves. His porcelain white skin had a silvery hue in the moonlight making him appear every bit the angel that he envisioned whenever he heard Wolfram’s name. And that ridiculous frilly, pink nightgown was riding high and low in all the wrong places making Wolfram look absolutely… _indecent_. Yūri turned his eyes away from the one long, slender leg that had fought free of the comforter, feeling the blood drain hotly from his head to pool low in his belly which was definitely not good. It was bad. Very, very bad. _Stupid hormones._

With his back to the bed and – mercifully – Wolfram, he ignored his unwanted pheromones washing over him and pulled out his pajamas from the wardrobe he unwittingly shared with his ever persistent Fiancé. He undressed and tugged them on quickly, not trusting himself enough to chance a look over his shoulder. But once ready for bed there was no where left to hide.

Breathing deliberately slow, Yūri made the short journey towards the bed and climbed in on the right side. His side. Wolfram was stretched out over more than half of the bed which Yūri considered impossible for everyone other than the fidgety tyrant since the bed was so huge. He was instantly engulfed by Wolfram’s warmth as he tucked himself under the comforter and a pleasured shiver ran through him like electricity. He did not know why Wolfram was always so hot in bed (heat wise!), but he had assumed it was because Wolfram was a fire mage and had left it at that. Yūri had to admit the heat the blond emanated was very pleasant. He thought it was like slipping into a hot bath after a long day of baseball practice. In short it was the closest to heaven Yūri had ever known.

Yūri sighed in contentment with his eyes already drooping as sleep called his name. The familiar sound of Wolfram’s cute little snores brought an involuntary curve to his lips just before he plunged into a deep, sated slumber. He was home.

...To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two Sequels are alternative stories following the end of THE DRY WIND FUTURE, which is why I can update them both at the same time. I think of them as Alternate Realities. Yuuri seeing into the future in the Dry Wind episode split the Timeline and in this fic he has a chance to change the outcome.
> 
> I hope that clears up everything. ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: the OC's name in this story is pronounced 'Mar-Kel' or 'Mark-L' whichever rolls off the tongue easier. It is a Germanic name meaning 'of Mars' or 'God of War'.
> 
> *The general call is a wolf-whistle in its original form when it was used by the Navy General (on a ship) with a boatswain's pipe to get the attention of all hands for an announcement.

“… why? Yūri! … ! … left … wimp ...”

He woke with a start when his head collided forcefully with something firm and soft. “Huh?” his sleep-fogged brain did not have time to take in this new predicament before the next impact to his head interrupted his train of thought.

“Idiot!” ok, that time Yūri was fully aware it was Wolfram causing this mild annoyance. He blocked the next blow with his forearm clumsily and sat up, glaring at the flustered beauty in his bed.

Yūri’s eyes were not prepared for the radiant image of this vengeful angel looming over him in the crisp morning light, he had to blink several times before his eyes adjusted enough to look upon his fiancé without squinting like a man blinded by the sun. He really was a sight to behold, especially first thing in the morning with his fair hair in more disarray than usual and his green eyes still hazy from sleep. Yūri did not think he would ever get used to it.

Eh… not that he was going to try…

“Wolfram!” Yūri grumbled, annoyed when the blond looked to be readying himself to swing his pillow down on him yet again. So, that was the cause of his minor headache. “What the heck, Wolfram?! I’ve only just got back and you’re already on at me? What the hell did I do now?!”

“What do you mean ‘what did you do’?!” Wolfram immediately retorted in his usual high-and-mighty tone he often used when in a fit of temper about something or other that Yūri did or didn’t do. Yūri groaned internally, wishing himself more awake. It was too early for all this. His defenses were down!

“You left!” Wolfram was yelling at him. Right, he should really start listening before the blond started demanding answers to questions that, if he valued his life, he would have heard. While Yūri could overpower Wolfram’s fire maryoku (which he prided himself on), Wolfram was still more experienced with a sword, after all. “The Great One and the Great Sage both said you had lost your majutsu, and then the next thing I know you just disappear along with Shōri and the Great Sage! How could you? Without even saying goodbye! And then you don’t turn up for three months! I was worried about you, you wimp!” his last word was stressed with the force of his next swing with the pillow held tightly in his fists. Yūri was too slow to defend himself. He landed in three strikes more on top of Yūri’s black mess of bedhead before Yūri had regained his bearings and pounced.

“Ahhh!” Wolfram screeched when Yūri trapped him beneath his weight, the afflicted pillow falling limp from the hands pinned above the blond head. It was only when Yūri stared down into the wide emerald eyes, the softly parted lips and the pinkly flushed cheeks of the mazoku prince he had efficiently pressed into the mattress, that he began to wonder whether this was the stupidest thing he had ever done. And really, in his young life he had an indulgent list of stupid moments. Yūri righteously ignored the vulnerable look in those brilliant green eyes and the bared white flesh unclothed by the portentous pink nightdress which was forever doing a poor job of concealing Wolfram’s virtue, and by his alarmed expression Yūri guessed the blond was fully aware of that as well. Yūri had to close his eyes for a second to regain his composure. Not that he ever had any of that around Wolfram anyway, but now would be a really good time to start.

“Calm down.” Yūri heard himself say. Whether he was talking to Wolfram or himself he was not sure. However, when he reopened his eyes and met startling green staring up at him, his black gaze narrowed with purpose. “Why is it that you go off on one every time something unexpected happens?” he began angrily. He had been right. He had not been ready for this. “If you’d given me a chance to answer you, you’d know that I hadn’t a clue that my powers had come back until Murata made a dive at me when I was standing on the ledge of the fountain and there wasn’t much time to explain after that, was there? I’m sorry I took so long, but I just wanted a few weeks to clear my head a bit. A lot had happened just before I left, you know that, and I wanted just a little break before I had to be King again.”

Wolfram blinked up at him. Once, twice, before his green gaze darkened with a furious mix of emotions which were nigh-impossible to decipher between one and another. But Yūri saw the enmity. Yūri prepared himself just in time to retrain Wolfram’s now flailing limps. _Whoa,_ Yūri had forgotten how much stronger the young mazoku was in contrast to how he looked. His delicate beauty was perfectly misleading. Though, luckily Yūri had the advantage of being on top… _Eh!_ He quickly shook that thought away.

“A few weeks? A few weeks! Didn’t you hear me? You were gone for **three months**! And you can’t just put off being a King, you unreasonable loafer! You’re so irresponsible, Yūri! Why d’you have to be such a wimpy King?!” Thankfully, the blond inferno stopped struggling once he realized Yūri was not going to let him go that way. He fumed, unmoving under Yūri’s superior weight. Yūri swore he could feel that gaze burning the back of his eye sockets as he glared unflinchingly into those green pools of molten fire.

“I said I’m sorry, okay?” Yūri shot back, not liking the now pleading note in his voice. How had that got there? “The time differences are a pain, I know that! I still haven’t gotten the hang of it. I just wanted to be a normal kid again for just a little while. I know it was a long time here but on Earth it was only three weeks.”

“And while you were being a ‘normal kid’,” Wolfram mocked, mimicking a deeper voice Yūri assumed must have been him. It sounded ridiculous, “did you not think about your country? Your responsibilities as a _King_ , or the extra paperwork you’d be pushing onto Gwendal? And what about your people, when you’re on Earth do you forget about them, Yūri, do you? And then there’s _Greta_. You take off and leave _our daughter_ without any explanation. How do you think she felt, Yūri? Huh? How do you think I felt, your fiancé, being left behind like that?”

Yūri felt guilt hit him with the force of a monsoon. He hated that Wolfram could do that. Get straight to the point of weakness like that. And what he said about Greta really cut him deep, which Yūri was sure had been deliberate. And what made it worse was Wolfram was right of course, he had made himself a promise he would act more responsibly after what he had come to think of as ‘the Sara Incident’. And he had been fully focused on his Kingly duties before the chance to escape one last time had gripped him with both hands. He hung his head and slackened his grip on the strong wrists pressed beneath his palms. He felt wretched now.

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly, sincerely. He did not look up to see Wolfram’s response, but continued to stare at the pink material gathered low on Wolfram’s hips. Fortunately, he could not see much passed the thick bundle of frills, otherwise he would have been even more uncomfortable then he already was. “You’re right… as usual. I didn’t think-”

“You never think, Yūri.” Wolfram interrupted him, but Yūri was surprised by the soft lilt to his usually bratty voice. He cautiously lifted his head and gazed through his black bangs, surprised to meet gentle green eyes staring back at him. Yūri caught his breath. “Which is why you need _me_.” the beautiful boy grinned wolfishly up at him, his fairly short blond tresses spread out on the sheets beneath his head. Yūri could not help but grin back, although his ears were ringing with the other boy’s words. “Don’t worry, Yūri.” Wolfram proclaimed with confidence. “I’ll make a manly King out of you yet.”

“Hey!” Yūri snapped, insulted. “I am manly!” A cute, but noticeably sarcastic, pig-like snort (from earth that is, did they even have pigs here?) was his immediate reply. Yūri leaned menacingly over his bedmate. However Wolfram looked more amused than intimidated. This is the part of his accidental fiancé’s personality which could really get on his nerves… like now. “At least I’m manlier then you, pretty boy.” Yūri countered with an evil smirk, confident the dig at the prince’s looks would work in his favor. Wolfram scoffed and Yūri’s smirk instantly fled his face while his black eyes narrowed in provocation.

“You can’t even ride a horse properly -”

“Yes, I can!”

“- and you haven’t a clue how to use the Demon Sword without also using your Maryokou. And since I can do both with ease that makes me much more capable and manlier than you. Besides, I’m a _soldier_. Face it, Yūri, without going into Maō-mode you’re not very manly at all.” Wolfram concluded too cheerily for Yūri’s taste, knowing he was being entirely truthful.

Yūri scowled wanting to contradict him, and passionately. He had been having sword-fighting lessons with Conrad, dammit! Didn’t that count for anything? However his bottom lip soon pushed out in a pathetic pout. He knew when he was defeated. “You don’t have to say it so casually.” he grumbled, his ego severely damaged without any hope of a quick recovery. The girlish giggles coming from his manlier-than-him fiancé was not helping either. Wolfram didn’t laugh often, so when he did, it always surprised Yūri how cute he sounded.

“Don’t worry, Yūri.” Wolfram told him once again, this time with a boyish punch to Yūri’s bicep. Yūri tried not to wince noticeably. “I’ll toughen you up. I can’t be having a wimp for a husband.”

Yūri leaned up and away from him when the word ‘husband’ dropped out of his mouth without so much as a warning. He sat back on his heels in between Wolfram’s knees and tried to hold back the blush that was quickly spreading across his skin at the sight of so much white, creamy flesh over sinewy muscle exposed by silky pink material. He had seen Wolfram naked many times in the bath or when they were getting undressed and redressed in the same room, but this was different. He was the picture of innocence, totally oblivious to how alluring he appeared in his artfully draped nightgown. Yūri was more aware than ever of his growing attraction to his friend.

And he had never been more terrified.

Luckily, he was saved from further embarrassing thoughts by the sudden slamming of the bedchamber doors meeting the neighboring walls, and both Yūri and Wolfram jumped up and apart as Günter flounced into the room.

“Oh! You’re Majesty! I came as soon as I’d heard of your return! Oh praise the Great One! You have come back to us!” Yūri tried to protest (even though he knew it was pointless) as his overzealous tutor embraced him a little too familiarly for Yūri to be completely comfortable with. And predictably over Günter’s “Oh your Majesty!” 's and “I’ve felt your absence in my every breath since your departure!” Wolfram could be heard yelling, “Günter get off him! He’s _my_ Fiancé! _Günter_!” Yūri looked to the open Chamber doors for an escape as Wolfram managed to successfully dislodge Yūri from Günter’s grasp and met Conrad’s amused eyes from across the room.

“Ready for our morning run, your – Yūri?” Conrad quickly corrected himself whilst watching the show and trying to hide his laughter.

“Yes!” Yūri said right away and rapidly fought his way off the bed, trying to ignore the two beauties fighting over him, running to the wardrobe to grab his tracksuit.

“Yūri!” Wolfram yelled after him as he stumbled into the Demon King’s bathroom to get changed, making double sure to lock the door behind him. There was no way he was undressing in front of both Wolfram and Günter, Conrad he was not worried about but right then he was glad for the privacy.

It occurred to him as he hurried to undress that not moments ago he had been closer to Wolfram physically than he had ever allowed before, not since the first few months of their “engagement” where he had unavoidably been caught on top of the playful blond more times than he thought was strictly considered coincidence. Obviously, he was losing control of this attraction already. He remembered the only other time he had been that close to Wolfram, the first time Yūri had found the blond Mazoku in his bed two years previously, Wolfram having suggested that they “ _finalize_  our engagement” which had resulted in Yūri locking himself in the bathroom (much like now).

Yūri self-consciously wondered on the fact that Wolfram had not been so bold with him since that first failed night. Except maybe, now he thought about it, there was the time in the Land of Snow where Wolfram had used the excuse of a “Legend” to try and get him naked! That’s not a Legend! But he was being influenced by the miasma disease at the time so Yūri wasn’t sure he should count that one. Sure, Wolfram had snuck into his bedroom every night since the first time (once naked!) before openly declaring he was sharing the Demon King’s Bedchambers with Yūri because he _is_ his Fiancé after all, but he had never pushed Yuuri to be physical with him.

 _"I’ll let you be in charge.”_ Yūri gulped at the imagery. He realized with a start that within the first couple of months of Yūri’s arrival Wolfram had stopped his gallant advances turning instead to more subtle hints of affection and wild outbursts of jealousy, and within the past few months Wolfram had actually shown nervousness around Yūri when his tenderness had been most prominent. With growing trepidation Yūri didn’t want to believe that his constant rejections were having such an effect on Wolfram, but the more he thought about it the more certain he was of that being what was happening. He was slowly destroying Wolfram’s confidence!

Completely dressed and guilt-ridden, Yūri exited the bathroom to find Wolfram wrapped in his pink dressing gown and glaring furiously at Günter who, by the looks of him, was eagerly anticipating Yūri’s reappearance while standing next to Conrad, who had stepped into the bedchamber and was also waiting, albeit more patiently. Yūri smiled a little warily at them all and caught Wolfram’s eyes briefly before hurrying from the room with Conrad in tow. If he had caught on to Yūri’s weird behavior, Conrad did not say anything which Yūri was immensely grateful for.

They set off on their usual track through the castle grounds at an even pace without a word spoken between them. Yūri counted to sixty, seven times before he finally plucked up the courage to give voice to his thoughts… sort of.

“Conrad?” he breathed, not as confidently as he would have liked but Conrad glanced at him with a reassuring smile anyway, which helped slightly. “Do you think Wolfram’s become, well… not shy really but…” Yūri floundered for a moment trying to come up with the right word. “…withdrawn, maybe?”

Conrad seemed to contemplate that for a moment before answering. “I don’t think someone as passionate as Wolfram could ever be considered withdrawn.” He said thoughtfully. Yūri frowned and was about to push his point when Conrad continued his line of thinking. “If you’re asking ‘have I seen a difference in Wolfram’s behavior lately?’ then I would have to say yes. But I believe there is nothing to be concerned about, Wolfram has just gained a new perceptive of his life and I believe he has matured because of it.” Conrad glanced again at Yūri, his expression curious. “Why do you ask, Yūri?”

Yūri determinedly stared ahead as they ran past the rose garden, hoping that his flushed cheeks would be mistaken for exertion. “It’s just that I was thinking about when I first came here, Wolfram was so… confident and… well, I guess you could say **bold** and now…” Yūri trailed off a little embarrassedly. He had never really discussed Wolfram with anyone before, except Murata and those times had been brief and far between. Probably for more reasons than he cared to delve too deeply into, he was not all that comfortable discussing his fiery fiancé. “Haven’t you noticed that he gets nervous now? He never got nervous before.” Yūri added quietly half afraid of how Conrad might interpret his (seemly sudden) concern and half anticipating his response.

There was a brief pause before Conrad obliged him. “I have noticed. However, I think you have misread his behavior as a lack of confidence.”

Yūri looked to him then, his eyes wide. “You mean it’s not?” he asked in disbelieve.

Conrad smiled and shook his head as they steered towards the stables. “I think it impossible on some level for fire mages not to have confidence.” Conrad chuckled. Yūri breathed out a sigh that was also a laugh, he felt relieved and happy with Conrad’s conclusion. “The nervousness that you see, Yūri,” Conrad continued and Yūri glanced at him eagerly. “It is Wolfram’s hesitance. He does not want to push his affections onto you like he has before, afraid that you would push him away in retaliation. However, he finds it difficult to restrain his emotions and so perhaps he has panicked slightly of late when he felt he had shown too much to you.”

Yūri soaked that in as they continued on their route in a lengthy silence. He felt the sinking feeling again as guilt was making another appearance. Somehow, that seemed worse than what Yūri had been expecting, although if asked how, he would not have an answer. Wolfram still felt as strongly for him as ever, possibly even more so, and he was being cautious not to be overbearing with his emotions. But Yūri knew that was not right, Wolfram’s emotions were overbearing, that was just the way he was, and more importantly it was Wolfram who had to bear them. He felt everything with the burning intensity of the sun, and it was unfair for someone so passionate to be “restrained” because he was “afraid Yūri would push him away in retaliation”. Yūri had never felt more disgusted with himself, not even when he had first realized his attraction for another man. But what was he supposed to do now?

He contemplated briefly whether or not to ask Conrad but refrained. While he trusted that Conrad would remain unbiased he did not want to put him in the middle of him and Wolfram, which would be more awkward than helpful as far as Yūri was concerned.

Before he knew it him and Conrad were at the end of their route and Yūri was walking back to his bedchamber – his _and Wolfram’s_ bedchamber – and he was fully expecting to find Wolfram still in bed or just getting up when he opened one of the huge oak doors, so he was surprised and perplexed when he found the chamber empty and the luxurious bathroom just as deserted. Hurriedly, Yūri washed and redressed in his usual attire, the foreboding feeling settling firmly in his gut as he made his way to breakfast.

Yūri smiled and waved at the guards he passed by, as he forcefully ignored the churning of his stomach as his destination grew closer.

“Good morning, everyone!” Yūri called as he stepped into the breakfast room, his eyes closed and a pleasant smile plastered across his face. An alarm when off in the back of his mind when he heard chairs strap across the floor as if someone or rather someones had gotten to their feet to greet him. It had taken a while but Yūri had gradually convinced everyone that they needn’t stand to attention or wait for him to arrive before they started eating, he had even convinced Günter of this using a consistent combination of guilt and impassioned speeches about equality. So, to hear persons greeting him in such a way normally meant visitors were here, and Yūri was more an a little peeved that no one, mainly Wolfram and Conrad, had not bothered to inform him.

“Oh! You’re Majesty!” Günter fawned immediately and Yūri reluctantly opened his eyes, almost losing his plastered smile at the sight of the newcomers, or rather one of the newcomers. “May I introduce you to Lord von Radford, one of the esteemed Ten Nobles as you know, and his son Markel von Radford, next in line to be on your council, Your Majesty.”

Yūri tried to hide his anxiety as he looked from Lord von Radford. The Nobleman Yūri had been quite fond of especially when he had told him all about how Wolfram used to be bad at being the Great One’s Knight in Hiding Shinou. But now Yūri’s opinion of the man had slightly declined with the introduction of his heir. Being that Markel von Radford looked an awful lot like the Mazoku Yūri had seen in the Dry Wind machine, with shoulder-length, dark blue hair and golden shin. Bottomless blue eyes were looking at him in a calculating fashion and Yūri’s gut squirmed to life, his skin felt as if white-hot pins were pricking him all over and the Maō’s power felt increasingly close to the surface when Murata’s words jolted through him yet again. _“Which would you rather face, the truth of your heart… or your worst fear?”_

“…the 27th Maō, His Majesty, Shibuya Yūri!” Yūri caught the tail-end of Günter’s usual long-winded introduction of his beloved Maō. Yūri shook off the feeling as much as he could as he stretched out his smile once again (whilst hoping nobody noticed it slip) and extended his hand to Lord von Radford.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Yūri lied and shook Lord von Radford’s hand.

“And you as well, you’re Majesty.” the noble responded politely before dropping Yūri’s hand and stepping back out of respect. “I do hope that our intrusion will be forgiven. I only have this Great Country's interests at heart, and your Majesty’s, of course.” The grey haired Mazoku bowed low at the last.

“Of course.” Yūri agreed valiantly before turning towards the youngest von Radford.

Markel bowed low. “You’re Majesty, it is an honor to be in your esteemed presence. Your words of wisdom have been spread throughout our world and I am humbled by your kindness.” That deep, smooth voice made Yūri’s blood rush hot and his insides squirm unpleasantly. There was no doubt this man was the Mazoku he had seen in his most feared future, and Yūri had to close his eyes for a second to stop himself from seeking out Wolfram within the room to reassure himself that he had not been thrown back into that nightmare.

Yūri opened his eyes again and smiled. Damn, he needed to work on keeping his fake smiles in place. “Not at all. You don’t need to say it like that.” Yūri answered embarrassedly. He was internally glad that he didn’t have to shake this man’s hand.

“You’re Majesty!” Lady Cecilie’s voice was a welcome surprise since it took Yūri’s focus away from the intruding noblemen.

“Cheri-sama!” Yūri exclaimed in greeting. He was almost grateful when the ex-Maō’s bosom made a mighty effort to suffocate him so that for just that moment he forgot about the people around him, and focus completely on fighting for air. Yūri had always thought of Cecilie’s embraces like an over enthusiastic mother’s rather than a promiscuous woman ever since the first night Yūri had seen Cecilie embrace Wolfram as such.

“Let’s eat!” Yūri gasped out when Cecilie let him up for air. He stumbled over to his chair at the head of the Table. On his right sat Wolfram, already eating his customary cream muffin (he had a wicked sweet-tooth, especially in the mornings), and on his left was his beautiful Princess.

“Papa Yūri!” Greta jumped up and greeted him with a hug. Yūri smiled the first genuine smile that morning, and squeezed his adopted daughter tight.

“Good morning, Greta!” Yūri greeted warmly, and was warmed even more when he caught Wolfram’s soft smile from the corner of his eye, while he watched his fiancé and human daughter embrace. When Greta sat back in her seat, Yūri chanced a glance in the blue haired Mazoku’s direction and was sickened by his seat being on Wolfram’s right, where he was watching Wolfram’s face intently as he ate.

Yūri didn't know what to do, what could he do? He didn't want to offend anyone politically but the double black Maō gripped his knife and spork in white-knuckled fists, unable to eat in fear of accidently-on-purposely challenging this Markel to a lovers-triangle duel. Yūri was barely restraining himself when the Mazoku spoke.

 "I've missed you, Wolfram." Markel drew Wolfram's attention to him with a roguish one-sided smile, his deep blue eyes staring deeper into Wolfram's wide green eyes. "It has been too many years since our parting. I must say, time has been kind to you, Wolfram."

"Oh." Wolfram blushed at the compliment and Yūri scowled at the scene. The fact Lord von Radford was smiling quietly and Cecilie was giggling openly with glee was not helping Yūri's sour mood. "Thank you, Markel. It is good to see you too." Wolfram replied in kind.

"When father told me you had grown into an even greater beauty than you had been as a boy, I confess I thought it impossible. Seeing you again I've forgotten why I ever doubted the truth." Markel continued to charm and smile, showing a hint of white pearly teeth.

Yūri really hated this guy.

"Thank you." Wolfram said again with a small smile before returning to his breakfast. Yūri was ridiculously pleased by the obvious dismissal.

However, Markel apparently wasn't discouraged in the least. "I'm sorry our arrival yesterday had been so late, I had hoped you'd escort us to our rooms but I was told you were all ready in bed."

"Yes my military training has helped my sleeping pattern. I'm always in bed by ten and sleep through to sunrise." Wolfram responded proudly.

"Really?" Markel said, surprised. "I remember how you used to stay up all night and sleep all morning." He shared an intimate gaze with Wolfram who returned it fondly. Yūri felt the metal of his spork bend in his left hand.

"I had the pleasure of showing Lord von Radford and Lord Markel to the guest wing reserved for the ten Aristocratic families, your - I mean, Yūri." Conrad directed at him. Yūri could feel those brown eyes boring into him.

"Oh." Yūri responded trying with all his might to appear interested in the conversation and nonchalant at the same time. He didn't think he managed it. "Will Lord von Radford be staying long?" he tried politely.

"Not too long, your Majesty." Lord von Radford replied with an honest smile while he buttered bread on his plate. "I always have matters to attend to on Radford Territory, of course. But I can take the time for me and my son to visit old friends here in the capital, and we're most grateful for your Majesty's hospitality."

Yūri laughed nervously. "Right, of course. You're welcome." he mumbled as he started to sweat.

"Markel, you are even more handsome than I remember." Cecilie smoldered across the breakfast table, her breasts pushed towards the youthful Mazoku next to her youngest son. "Ooh, you must have all the boys fighting over your attention!" she clapped.

Markel smirked with hooded eyes over the table at the sexy ex-Queen. "Well, I do have the pick of the nobility now that I'm ready for marriage." He boasted.

Wolfram paused in his eating to stare round at his old friend. "Marriage? Really? I thought you enjoyed the single life too much to ever give it up? What happened to your speech of, 'my body is too perfect to withhold from the world it would be selfish of a bride of mine to not share me!'" Wolfram mocked in an overly whimsical voice while fluttering his long lashes up at his suddenly embarrassed friend.

"I was young and impulsive!" Markel defended himself, uncharacteristically flustered. "Anyway, I said most of that to impress you." He grumbled.

"Of which it did the opposite." Wolfram rolled his eyes but smirked nostalgically.

Markel gaze at Wolfram's profile with blatant longing. "I remember." He whispered, coaxing Wolfram to meet his eye for a still moment.

Yūri cleared his throat loudly and uncomfortably. Wolfram startled and blushed, turning back to his half eaten breakfast while Markel met the Maō's eyes with raised blue eyebrows. Yūri bit his tongue and tried not to scowl.

Cecilie giggled into the awkward silence, her heavy chest onto the table and clinking the silverware beneath her as she leaned further towards the young men across from her. "Wolfie, you must postpone your duties today to give handsome Markel a tour of the palace."

Wolfram slowly put down his utensils and swallowed his last bite. "I'm sure Markel remembers his way around the castle, mother. He used to come here every summer…" Wolfram said carefully.

"But that was so long ago." Cecilie dismissed with a forward flick of her wrist and pouted. "And we've had to rebuild since then. Go on, Wolfie, when else will you have a chance to escort another handsome visitor like Markel?  You know, Wolfram was never as social as I but he grew up even more beautiful, don't you agree, Markel?" she fluttered her lashes prettily.

Markel didn't hesitate. "Yes, I do, Cheri-sama." He winked at her making her titter madly. Yūri stared as Wolfram's face grew rosy as the ex-Prince stared down at his near empty breakfast plate.

Cecilie clapped her hands together, startling everyone. "It's decided then. Wolfie will spend today with Markel and the rest of us will give you two some time alone to reminisce of time long past."

Wolfram gave up on eating and arched his eyebrows high towards his mother. "Mother, I highly doubt a tour would take the whole day…" he attempted to deny.

"Nonsense!" Cecilie cut him off with a laugh like a bell. "You must have lunch together in the garden. It's so beautiful there this time of year. And my flowers are in full bloom! Markel, I’ve added a few new breeds since you last saw them, I think I was just getting started.” Cecilie stared at the two young men, one eager to comply and one grudgingly resigned. Yūri wanted so badly to intervene but the sexy ex-Queen was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted her own way, and watching her stare down Wolfram, Yūri knew it wasn’t his place to deny her.

And looking around the table, at Gwendal, Conrad and Günter with their attention unusually fixated on their breakfast and Lord von Radford’s mouth tilting up around his spork, Yūri was heartsick to realize that nobody was about to speak against her.

He hated it, knowing that Wolfram would be alone with this man who surely was the lover he saw in Wolfram’s future, while Yūri was condemned to be inside, buried under the never ending mounts of paperwork.

The Maō put down his eating utensils with great care and chocked down his last tasteless mouthful.

He wasn’t hungry anyway.

"You've grown up a lot." Markel remarked as he and Wolfram walked the familiar root of the training yard. Wolfram had insisted upon it first so he could inform his Corporal of his absence today. It had amused Markel greatly to have so many jealous eyes on him as Wolfram gave his reason for taking some ‘person time’. Markel had smirked and met the eye of every pretty boy military solider who glared back at him.

"Why do you sound so surprised? Everyone grows up eventually, and we haven't seen each other in over twenty two years. We were just kids then." Wolfram snapped, seemingly annoyed by Markel’s invasion on his time.

"Well, you were just a kid. I'm fifteen years older than you, or have you forgotten my birthday after twenty two years?" Markel asked, curious.

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "Of course, I remember your age. You're ninety nine this year." He grumbled, kicking a loose stone off the cobbled path.

"And your birthday was last month, so you're eighty four." Markel sighed. "We used to be inseparable growing up. I miss how you used to follow me around everywhere."

Wolfram laughed abruptly, looking up to meet blue eyes at long last. "I would never have guessed from how often you tried to shake me loose so you could swordplay with friends **your** age." The beautiful boy with golden hair shining in the sunlight and eyes as green as the foliage surrounding them on this Spring day, looked at him with a reserved scolding Markel hadn’t seen in decades.

Markel pouted exaggeratedly. "That's not fair. You were too young to do that stuff."

Wolfram stopped walking, causing Markel to turn and face him on the grass. "I wanted to join in but you never let me!" Wolfram complained as if they’d stepped backwards in time.

"Your brothers would have **destroyed** me if you had gotten hurt!" Markel defended, feeling that past trepidation creep up on him all over again.

Wolfram rolled his whole head with his eyes, dramatically. "By the Gods, you're still so uptight. I'd hoped you would have grown out of that one." He laughed, cruelly.

Markel stepped forward. "Uptight? Look who's talking! Do you still have violent outbursts over irrational jealousy?" He smirked.

Wolfram’s green eyes blazed with forgotten fury and Markel felt his pulse jump in response. "You used to flirt with everything that moved!"

"It was harmless! It's not like I did it to spite you!" Markel shouted back.

Wolfram scoffed. "You slept with every single noble of our age! And you weren't discreet either!"

"Our courting was never exclusive. You had more than enough suitors too!" Markel reminded, his skin beginning to tingle with the heat building between them.

"Yes, but I never allowed them to court me! I'd made it clear to everyone that you were the only suitor I wanted at my side!" Wolfram shouted even louder than before.

"We were young! I intended to marry you and devote myself only to you for eternity one day, I just wanted to sow my wild oats, and gain experience. Besides, I did teach you some of the things I learned, didn't I?" Markel steadily lowered his voice until he was whispering his confession with a quick look behind Wolfram’s tense figure, to meet the curious eyes of two palace guards.

Wolfram flushed and turned his head away, his slim body tightening further. "It doesn't matter anyway. Our courtship ended when you went away to War, and I've since learned professional swordplay and graduated from the Military Academy." He whispered in return.

Markel put a respectful arms distance between them and raised blue eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Really? I thought Gwendal wanted you to train as a healer?"

Wolfram sighed and looked behind himself to glare away the guards, who saluted and marched onward, much to Markel’s delight. "I was Julia's apprentice for a short few years before her death. Once the War had ended, I wrote to my uncle for permission to join the Academy." He revealed briskly.

Markel laughed out loud, his deep voice echoing off the high stone walls encircling them. "So you went around your brothers." He surmised.

Wolfram glared at him with his arms sternly crossed. "Everyone was too busy to mind me by then, it was a grieving period and the militia was low in ranks. I wasn't needed here. I had to do something."

Makrle shook his head, fondly. "You never did like following orders, I'm surprised you survived the training."

Wolfram grinned, teeth glinting. "I was top of my class. I can follow orders fine, as long as they're reasonable and not coddling disguised as reason."

"Top of your class, huh?" Markel smirked wickedly. "I think I'm going to have to see some proof."

"You mean like my military uniform which I'm wearing?" Wolfram said sarcastically, looking down at himself, his blue uniform fitting him perfectly.

"No. I think I'm going to need to see your swordsmenship in action." Markel sighed and gripped the hilt of his sword along his right side, pulling the long, wide blade free.

Wolfram reached for his own sword on his left hip. "Why? You think you can beat me?" he asked, mirroring his friend's smirk as well as his footing as they began to circle each other in the middle of the quad.

"Well, I am older than you and more experienced." Markel's tongue curled behind his teeth and Wolfram glowered back at him, green eyes darkening. "Besides, I'm stronger too."

Wolfram scoffed, widening his stance so that his feet were parallel with his shoulders. "If you think strength has anything to do with swordplay than this is going to be easier than I expected."

Markel didn't reply. He attacked.

Wolfram met him halfway, spinning once to counteract Markel's natural strength with the burst of momentum and gravity as he forced Markel to strike upward against Wolfram's flashing steel. Sparks flew at the first impact and Markel attempted to regain his footing to push upwards, so Wolfram jumped back and lashed at him again, keeping Markel on his toes and unable to use his superior leg muscles as leverage.

Markel's blue eyes narrowed, quickly taking in Wolfram's clever strategy and moving his body like a mountain, in-tight to restrict Wolfram's nimble movement, knowing forcing his smaller opponent into a corner will ultimately win him the fight.

Wolfram took one step back and saw Markel's eyes glint with triumph giving away his ploy. Wolfram changed direct and they met in the middle with another clash of steel but Markel's strength was overwhelming Wolfram in the head to head collision. Markel grinned behind the 'V' of their weaponry as if the fight was already over.

Wolfram pursed his lips, his green eyes determined, pushed back harder almost breaking Markel's stance when the older soldier’s arms unbelievably brushed against his broad chest. Wolfram smiled dangerously sweet up at Markel's wide eyes, and then used the heel of his boot to stomp **hard** on Markel's toes.

"Arrgh!" Markel yelled out, dropping his guard to jump back in shock and agony. Wolfram was still smiling when he followed his move with a sharp palm strike to his old friend's forehead, knocking him flat on his back on the grass. By the time Markel had regained his equilibrium, his sword was limp in his left hand and he had Wolfram's sword resting gently beneath his raised chin.

Applause erupted in the quad, and the guards hanging out palace windows and some meandering in the corners of the quad drawn by the sounds of clashing blades, were noticed for the first time by the dueling pair. It was almost like they were both transported back in time to twenty four years ago, only this time Wolfram wasn't watching on the sidelines with them.

This time, Wolfram was the one standing triumphant.

Markel huffed indignantly. "If I had known you weren't going to fight with honor than I wouldn't have either." He complained.

Wolfram rolled his eyes, and tapped his cool steel against the underside of Markel's chin threateningly. "If you knew me at all, you'd know I hate to lose. I've been trained to win under any circumstances."

"I should have known." Markel ridiculed himself with a self-deprecating grimace. "The only way your brothers would allow you in harm's way is if you could defend yourself by any means necessary."

Wolfram hummed pleased. "That's right. You underestimate me like always."

"You're right." Markel nodded seriously. "It won't happen again."

Then he kicked his left foot out and swept Wolfram's legs out from under him. Wolfram dropped his sword as he hit the soft soil ground. "Ooof!"

Markel was on him immediately, pinning Wolfram's thrashing limbs down with his large hands and blunt knees. Wolfram huffed and willed himself still while Markel grinned manically above him. There was more cheering around them.

Someone even used the general call* to draw more soldiers' attention to them.

"It's been a long time since we've been in this position." Markel whispered, as if his flirting was a secret as he lowered his face until he was breathing the same air as Wolfram. "I could never forget your sweet taste."

Wolfram widened his eyes gasping silently, and Markel didn't hesitate to close the breath between them. Wolfram headbutted him, **hard**.

"GAH! Shit!" Markel swore loudly, pulling his hands up to cup his throbbing nose.

Wolfram wiggled his legs free and clamped his thighs around Markel, rolling them until Markel was on his back once again with Wolfram over him and his boot knife pressed under his chiseled jaw. **Again.**

"What was that you were saying about not underestimating me again?" Wolfram laughed at him, his green eyes blazing with his second victory in as many minutes.

Markel sighed deeply, thudding his head against the ground once in defeat, his dark blue hair flopping loose from its ribbon tie at the nape of his flushed and shinning neck.

"I give in, I am beaten. You won. This time." Markel muttered, grudgingly.

Wolfram jumped up and expertly flipped his knife back inside the sheath between the outside of his right boot and his white stocking. Markel was slower to sit up, watching Wolfram retrieve his fallen sword and dust off his proud uniform, straightening out the creases he'd put there. The crowd that had gathered was also dispersing now that the entertainment was over, it was back to work. When Wolfram was fiddling with his cravat, Markel finally pulled himself to his feet and walked three feet over to where his navy issue weapon lay gleaming in the sunlight between the short blades of evergreen grass.

"So I haven't had a chance to wash up since I arrived." Markel announced in the silence that had fallen between them. He turned to face Wolfram and winked. "You want to escort an old friend to the bath?"

Wolfram crossed his arms, cocked his hip and arched his right brow. "I think you can find the Aristocrats' communion bath from memory."

"Of course I could, but you might as well come since I got you all sweaty and dirty too." Markel persisted.

"Why would I use a visitors' bath when I live here? I bathe in the Maō's private bathroom now." Wolfram announced haughtily.

"Oh." Markel's charm faltered for a moment before he blinked and bounced right back. "I just thought you could wash my back like old times."

...To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: No way is Yuuri going to just sit on the sidelines once word of Wolfram's whereabouts reaches him through Murata...
> 
> Please leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts so far?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answer to Bbnov's review (fanfiction.net): Yes, Yuuri DOES find out just how far Wolfram's past courtship with Markel went (physically and emotionally), and so will you, maybe even BEFORE he does. ;P
> 
> This chapter is kind of an interlude, getting more of Yuuri's POV before we dive back into the plot. After all, Yuuri needs to be ready for this fight!

“Shibuya.” Murata announced himself shortly, stalking into the Maō’s office briskly, his eyes slightly wild behind the lenses of his glasses. “I think you should take the afternoon off.”

Yūri put his pen down slowly, looking to Gwendal for permission. Gwendal scowled at the Great Sage, meeting Murata’s stare before bowing him head with respect.

“If your Grace insists than his Majesty can pass on his duties for the rest of the day.” Gwendal agreed grudgingly. Yūri leaped up out of his seat and followed Murata, who was all ready stalking out again.

“Murata, what’s going on?” Yūri questioned worriedly. His friend was acting very peculiar and the double black Maō didn’t like it.

“It seems Lord von Radford is more charming than I had predicted. The reason we returned is happening right under your nose, I can’t have you stuck behind your desk when your fiancé needs you close.”

“Wolfram? He needs me? Is he in trouble?”

“Yes, Lord von Bielefeld needs you. And no, he isn’t in trouble. Not yet, anyway. But he might become in trouble if you don’t interfere with his consorting with Markel von Radford.”

“‘Consorting’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Yūri demanded, stopping in his tracks.

Murata halted in the middle of the hallway leading to the communion bathroom in the wing conserved for the ten Aristocratic families, his face flushed with outrage on his friend’s behalf and his glasses gleaming dangerously. “It means, Shibuya, there is a rumor that your fiancé was propositioned in the quad to wash his old boyfriend’s back half an hour ago and neither of them have been seen since.”

Yūri felt his blood run cold. “Old boyfriend?” He’d suspected but the knowledge that it was true was very, very unsettling.

“If I were you, Shibuya, I wouldn’t let my fiancé out of my sight today.” Murata warned.

Yūri nodded his head slowly then determinedly pushed in front of Murata and into the bathroom. The stream was thick inside, Yūri could barely see two steps in front of him but he didn’t slow down, stomping a path through the thin clouds of white feeling the heat of the room prickle his skin under his clothes, within seconds he was sweating.

He heard the slosh of water before he could make out the source of the sweltering mist. He saw the dark blue of his arch rival first and then the golden tan of his muscular body.

Yūri really hated this guy.

“Your Majesty?” Markel asked in surprise, his smooth voice lilting up at the end of Yūri’s title. The blue-eyed Mazoku sat up from his reclined position, giving his King his full attention. “May I be so bold as to ask what you’re doing here?”

Yūri’s eyes quickly scanned the water but his fiancé was nowhere in sight. “Where is Wolfram? I… I want to talk to him about something.”

“Oh.” Markel swam forward guiltily, eyes quickly sweeping the water too before smiling up at Yūri. “He insisted he bathe in your private bathroom as it is his privilege. If your Majesty can’t find him there then I don’t know where he is.”

“Oh.” Yūri parroted, sagging slowly with relief. Still, he glared around at the heavy air filled room. “Why is it so steamy in here, anyway?”

Markel appeared as though he was restraining himself from laughing at Yūri’s question. “I am a fire mage so I enjoy a higher temperature for my baths than those without an affinity for fire can usually stand. I’m surprised your Majesty doesn’t know this as Wolfram is a fire mage and enjoys his baths the same.”

“I know what kind of mage Wolfram is.” Yūri snapped before he could dampen his temper. “It’s just… when we bathe together the water’s at a temperature I like…”

“I’m surprised Wolfram never complained about being cold.” Markel said, slowly.

Yūri bristled. “I’m pretty sure Wolfram reacts badly to being too overheated. I’m not sure how that works but he needs to take cool baths sometimes. He’s hot enough without your too hot baths.”

“I’m not arguing with you there.” Markel smirked.

Yūri gaped at the handsome fire mage in his too hot and steam bath, before he shook off the whole weird atmosphere and stomped out in search for Wolfram.

He hoped against hope he’d find him in their private bathroom.

“Yūri!”

He halted on his hurry to get to the Maō’s bathroom before his fiancé could move on without them talking first. He turned to see Conrad’s kind brown eyes as he jogged to where Yūri stood further down the hallway.

“Conrad, can’t it wait? I’m a little preoccupied right now.” Yūri said as gently as he could, while looking over his shoulder at the closed door at the end of the hall.

Conrad gave him a confused look but smiled his usual smile. “I heard that you had some time off, so I figured you’d want to play catch?”

“Oh.” Yūri replied, distracted. “Maybe later? I just, right now I need to find Wolfram.” He took two steps backwards towards the still closed door.

“Why?” Conrad asked, confused. “If it’s not urgent than you should let Wolfram spend time with his old friend.”

Yūri stopped cold, his chest squeezing tight causing his breath to wheeze. He slowly looked back at his godfather, betrayed. “Why would you say that?” he whispered.

Conrad softened his stance, his gaze sadder than the double black had ever seen. “Yūri, you should know that Gwendal has agreed to Radford’s proposal for his son and Wolfram to rekindle their courtship.”

The Maō felt his heart lodge in his throat, his chest a hollow cavity without it. He felt his every breath as ice filling his lungs. “Why?”

Conrad heaved a deep sigh. “Yūri… Wolfram has a chance for happiness. Wolfram loved Markel once, and Markel has never forgotten Wolfram. This could be the answer to all our problems.”

“What problems?” Yūri asked numbly.

Conrad hesitated before reaching out to touch his godson’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort from what he had to voice. “You think we don’t hear your discontent with the situation, but we do, we just couldn’t do anything until now. Günter was the one to recall Wolfram’s first and only courtship, and Gwendal wrote to Lord von Radford a few months after your coronation.”

“So long ago?” Yūri wondered, his eyes staring off over his godfather’s shoulder, lost in his drowning thoughts.

“Yes, well, Markel was still deployed and enjoying his exploits across the seas. It’s only since Markel returned home that he answered Gwendal’s letter, requesting a chance to settle with Wolfram like was planned before the war changed everything. This meeting was arranged to see if they both still feel as they once did.” Conrad explained as carefully as he was able under his godson’s guarded gaze.

“And… you hope that they do… feel the same way?” Yūri questioned, his eyes shut to the answer he knew would come.

Conrad closed his own eyes, resolved. “Yes… I hope for the happiness of both my brother and you… even though your happiness will be separate.”

Yūri shook his head as bitter tears filled his eyes, he couldn’t speak, so resumed his march towards the door at the end of the long hall. His shoes thudded dully on the red carpet as he gained momentum, blinking the mist of tears from his sight and swallowing down his pain. He didn’t want Wolfram to see him upset.

When he reached the door, he pushed inside the Maō’s bathroom, letting the heat of the steam dry his face and give his skin an excuse to be so flushed. He peered through the thin curtain of white to see the huge stone bath and the water inside flat and undisturbed.

Wolfram was already gone.

Outside, the bright and sunny spring morning turned to afternoon and the blue sky dimmed the slightest hue with the distant grey of impending clouds.

A warning that rain was coming.

The disillusioned double-black had meandered around for while, not knowing where to begin looking for his wayward fiancé and questioning himself if he even wanted to, now that he knew the people closest to him has orchestrated this whole thing.

If everybody thought this was the best for Wolfram and himself… then was he really in any position to question them, when he didn’t even know how he felt or what he wanted?

“If you really believe that then all is already lost, Shibuya.”

Yūri startled at the sudden reappearance of the Great Sage, leaning against the window looking down into the quad from the second story, his face in shadow.

“Did you know Gwendal arranged for Wolfram’s ex to come here, and that it was Günter who came up with the plan, and even Conrad is onboard with it?” Yūri demanded.

Murata hesitated and Yūri glared hard at his best friend, his feelings of betrayal projected through the unearthly gleam in his black eyes. Murata uncrossed his arms and raised his hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Your anger is better directed at those who still oppose you, Shibuya. I want only to prevent you from losing what you doubt you need and hold dear. Would you have come if I’d told you the plot of the people who love you? Are you not doubting your own feelings because of it now?” The wise man reasoned.

Yūri drew his frustration inwards and looked away, unable to deny the truth when confronted with it. Murata lowered his hands and sighed deeply.

“I cannot help you if you will not fight what is about to happen.” Murata admitted.

“How should I know if I even should fight for something if I’m not even sure it’s for the best?” Yūri spat. “Conrad’s right. They’re all right! I’ve done nothing but complain about the engagement and ignore my feelings for Wolfram! How can I be sure of anything when our whole relationship is based on a misunderstanding?”

Murata stepped forward urgently, causing Yūri to tense in his defense. “Because you admit there are feelings to ignore, Shibuya. You said, ‘ **my** feelings **for** Wolfram’ and not ‘ _Wolfram’s_ feelings for _me_ ’. There **is** something worth fighting for if only you’d have the courage to **try**. You do feel _something_ for your fiancé no matter how it all started. Are you really going to just let him go without ever realizing what it is you’re losing? Can you live your life without knowing for certain that letting go was worth it?” Murata said, passionately his whole body leaning closer towards the confused and troubled Maō.

_No wonder your mate is looking elsewhere when you’re too weak to fight for his love._

Yūri startled at the powerful voice sounding inside his throbbing head. _What do you want?_ Yūri questioned, bitter and on the defensive now. _This doesn’t concern you. This is between me and Wolfram… and Markel, I suppose…_

 _Your words are as weak as your will._ The Maō spirit insulted him. _You can never hope to hold on to a mate so strong as our Wolf with a heart as_ _dubious as yours._

 _Our Wolf?_ Yūri wondered at, the endearment leaping out at him amongst all the invective. _Our Wolf? Our? Since when is Wolf ours?_

 _Since the beginning._ The Maō spirit told him, resolute. Yūri felt something then, warmth spreading outward from his chest and belly like soft touches in front of a roaring fire, the tendrils slowly reaching throughout his whole body chasing away the cold, and for the first time Yūri actually believed it.

The feeling was so certain… it **had** to be the truth… right?

“Shibuya?” Murata’s voice came from far away and Yūri blinked to see him standing close, Yūri became aware of his body heat although they weren’t touching. Yūri shook his head to clear the lingering fog.

“Sorry. But, yeah… I think you’re right.” He decided, the certainty finally taking root and becoming as real as the solid stone floor beneath his suddenly steady feet. Yūri nodded once and faced his best friend head on with his eyes shining brightly with the blaze warming him from the inside.

Murata blinked at him as if he could see it too.

Yūri beamed and grabbed the shunned Sage’s hand to begin the trek outside.

“Come on, Murata. We’ve got a mission: Operation Love Spy!”

...To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole of this plot will take place over the course of 24 hours, so Yuuri just has himself one really, really long day. 
> 
> A lot more is to come before the very end!

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of 2nd Sequel in this series is also NOW POSTED!


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